


The Stars Up There

by boosts_gold



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Panic Attacks, how you do tag well, just some overall sad boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 22:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15694287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boosts_gold/pseuds/boosts_gold
Summary: While working a seemingly normal case, something happens that makes Connor realize how easy it is to lose someone. When the people he values are suddenly put in jeopardy, it scares Connor in a way that he didn't think was possible.





	The Stars Up There

**Author's Note:**

> wow, I finally made it. This is the first fan fiction I've ever written, and I thought it was about time I tried. I didn't know I was so bad at summaries until now, but I wasn't really expecting anything better. Please feel free to tell me about any typos or errors you come across-- I'm eager to hear feedback!

For the fifth time that evening, Hank slipped. Connor had been with the Lieutenant for long enough to know that Hank was less than kind with his language, or gentle with it for that matter, so Connor wasn’t even surprised by the string of curse words Hank spewed.

Connor couldn’t blame him for slipping (he’d have to reprimand him about his language later, however). It was a rainy and overall dreary night, with hoards of gray clouds clustered in the sky. The distant rumble of thunder was enough to signify that if the storm didn’t hit now, they would most likely get caught in it on the drive home.

On a different, less observant note, Connor couldn’t help but be disappointed by the fact that the night sky had been covered by the grave beginnings of a storm. He had come to like stars--he liked the way they gleamed all the way up there, in the dark void of space. Hank had told him all about the stars after Connor caught him sitting outside in the grass of his front yard one night.

Hank doesn’t like to recall that night. “The boys in the office are right,” Hank liked to grumble whenever Connor mentioned it. “I’m just gettin’ soft.”

Soft or not, Connor still loved the stars.

Hank’s swearing drew Connor’s thoughts back to reality.

“We shouldn’t’ve come out,” the older man spat, pushing himself off of the car he had steadied himself on. He stomped in a puddle angrily, as if to injure it in some way, before he looked up at Connor. Possibly for some kind of agreement, Connor suspected.

“We have a duty that needs to be attended to, Lieutenant,” Connor chided. “Though I have to admit, the weather is somewhat…disappointing.”

“Yeah, well let’s just see if it’s still disa-fucking-pointing when I fall and break my spine.” Hank’s gruff expression lifted into a satisfied smirk when he saw the concerned expression on the android’s face.

The conversation ended quickly when a DPD officer standing nearby noticed the two of them. He waved them over gruffly, his face caught between disgust and grief. As soon as they got close enough, the officer directed them to the swarm of DPD agents crowding around the side of the wall. Just as they were passing, the officer touched Hank’s arm.

“It’s a nasty one.” The officer’s voice was thick, swollen with some kind of emotion that Connor was having trouble identifying. Now that he had become deviant, understanding emotion was a goal of his, but a human’s emotions were so unstable that they switched on and off like a light switch. There was such a plethora of emotions that there were times Connor thought it would be better if he went back to feeling nothing.

Lieutenant Anderson shot Connor a wary glance before heading in towards the crowd.

True to the officer’s word, it was a gruesome sight.

The victim, whose name Connor had already identified to be Nicholas Finnigan, was slumped against a brick wall slick with rain, his body wedged between the dumpster and the wall. His mouth was gaping in a silent scream, his jaw unhinged. Blood trickled out through his teeth and down his chin, smearing his already-stained jacket. Bruises lined his knuckles and scratches coated his palms, the skin raw and an angry shade of red, indicating that the victim had crawled his way over to the dumpster and in some way retaliated. His body was contorted, one of his arms limp at his side while the other was twisted up behind his head and around the opposite shoulder. His legs were tied in a similar fashion-- both of them looped around one another, the ankles very clearly snapped away from each other.

The contortions weren’t what killed him, however. His chest was pumped with lead--nine bullets to be exact. Upon closer inspection it became clear to Connor that the assailant had done it messily, most likely overwhelmed by emotion. Each bullet had entered Finnigan from the front and, judging by the burn marks around the bullet holes, the attacker had fired at point blank. Approximately a foot and three inches. Basically arms length away.

Connor eyed the body. How had Finnigan allowed the assailant to get so close?

Connor did a quick scan of the man’s face. His basic information loaded before Connor’s eyes: his name, registration, and every bit of information that had been logged in the files all popping up in an instant. He had a criminal record, Connor discovered. There was a long list of petty crimes-- attempted robbery, illegal possession of a firearm, so on and so forth. Connor’s eyes leapt ahead. At the very bottom, in a grave red font were the words _Charged with Second-Degree Murder_. Charged but not found guilty.

He looked up towards Hank to voice his findings. That was when he spotted the thirium, or the “blue blood” that the public had decided to dub it. It was fresh, so fresh that perhaps even Hank could see it, and it smeared along the edge of the brick wall that led to the front of the building. Or the motel, to be more specific.

The odd location of the crime had been on Connor’s radar since their arrival. Finnigan had been killed just behind a broken down and weathered motel. It was so old that the once brightly lit LED sign in the front of the building was so chipped and cracked that it was hardly able to support itself. It was an odd place to someone like Connor since yes, it didn’t look visually stunning in any way at all, but it was the perfect place to commit a crime. It was far out in the middle of nowhere (That was something Hank noted while plugging the coordinates into his GPS. Connor remembered the way he leaned in towards the device, blinking at it before looking towards Connor as he said, “The hell are we going?”)

But that was besides the point. It was in Connor’s best interest to analyze the thirium before the rain washed it away.

Hank gave a little sputter of surprise as Connor suddenly stood and walked towards the corner.

“Connor! What, are you ditching?”

“Lieutenant, I may have discovered a vital piece of evidence,” the android responded cooly.

Hank began to jog over towards his partner. He stopped short when he saw how Connor reached out and brushed the blue blood before sticking his fingers into his mouth. He heaved a sigh and ran his hand down his face.

“Connor, for fuck’s sake-- what have I told you about stickin’ your goddamn fingers in shit!”

Connor decided it would be best if didn’t he remind Hank that it wasn’t _shit_ , it was _thirium_.

The analysis of the blue blood flew into Connor’s eyes a moment later. Thankfully, but also surprisingly, he got a model. Not too specific-- it belonged to a GJ500. So an android had been here. Whether or not it was the attacker, Connor wasn’t positive, but the likelihood that it was the attacker was very high. And Connor’s statistics had a tendency to be correct.

“So? What did you find out?” Hank asked a bit impatiently.

“An android was here. A GJ500, to be more specific.”

“Uh-huh. Hell, it could be a G.I. Joe for all I care, what does that mean to us?”

Connor made a mental note to look into what a G.I. Joe was. “A GJ500, Hank. It’s an android constructed for security purposes. That would mean this wasn’t a spurred killing--it was premeditated. What would a security android be doing all the way out here?”

“Huh. That means they couldn’t’ve gotten far, either. We would’ve seen ‘em on the highway.”

Connor looked around the corner. The front of the motel stared back at him, dark and dilapidated. Thunder crashed overhead, and a knot of worry formed in his artificial heart.

“The android is still in the area,” Connor murmured. He looked towards Hank, who had a similar expression of worry on his own face, “Hank, they’re in the motel.”

Lieutenant Anderson let out a quiet curse. He glanced between the front of the building and the agents standing a ways away. He then looked back towards Connor, determination drawing a thin line on his face as he patted his gun holster. “We’ll check it out.”

“Wouldn’t back up be recommended?”

“Yeah, ‘cause sending a swarm of DPD agents charging at the doors won’t scare the guy. We go in there, and if he jumps at us, _then_ we call for backup.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Plus, we’ve got the building surrounded. There’s no way he’ll get out.”

Connor wasn’t very fond of Hank’s logic, but the need to catch the killer was strong in his stomach, or whatever biocomponents equated a stomach. He nodded uneasily, and the two of them approached the front of the motel.

Hank was walking almost protectively in front of the android, his hand still perched on his holster as he surveyed the building. The first few doors on the front of the motel were boarded up by thick slabs of wood. There was no way the GJ500 had gotten in there.

As they got closer, weaving their way around a broken and shattered vehicle, Hank gently raised his arm and pointed at the door at the very end of the long line of rooms. It wasn’t boarded up like the rest and a faint glow on the ground surrounded it. More thirium?

Connor nodded towards Hank and they approached, getting on either side of the door. Hank rested his hand on the knob, glancing one more time at his partner for affirmation. He turned the knob, jerking the door inwards as his gun came up equally as fast.

It happened in an instant-- there was a blur of red and blue and a sudden harsh force knocked Connor backwards, forcing him to steady himself on the nearby railing. Connor was surprised to hear no gunshot--Hank hadn’t fired, why hadn’t he fired?

Connor finally caught his surroundings. Hank was grunting angrily, his hand latching onto the arm of the android attempting to flee. The GJ500 looked back, his LED blazing and pulsing a horrible red color, his eyes full of equal parts fear and rage. In the next moment Hank’s gun went flying from his hands and the Lieutenant was slammed into the wall.

The GJ500 slipped loose and darted for the lobby doors. Connor was at Hank’s side in an instant. Hank grumbled something unintelligible, waving his hand desperately at Connor.

“I don’t--”

“Go after it!” Hank snapped. “I’ll find a shortcut!”

Connor nodded firmly.

The GJ500 didn’t run as fast as Connor had been expecting--though it wasn’t all that surprising. He was filled with so much fear it would paralyze a human. Judging by the harsh redness of his LED and the glazed look in his eyes, the android didn’t have much of a plan to stick to.

Connor’s own LED flickered between yellow and red as he attempted to keep his emotions at bay. He pushed through the large wicker doors, the tiled ground slick with rain. The GJ500 had already started down the hall. He turned his head desperately as he tried to find the nearest exit, or some path to efficiently lose Connor.

Connor broke into a sprint. He was just about to near the android, reaching out to grab the soggy hood it was wearing, before it turned sharply up the first set of stairs. Connor skidded a few feet, latching onto the side wall before launching himself up the stairs, leaping over the railing to catch up quicker.

Connor was hyper aware of the gun attached to his own hip. After the revolution that Markus and the other androids had begun, androids were now able to carry guns. Connor struggled with it, finding the cold metal and the way that the barrel stared at him harshly rather frightening. But he was beginning to wonder if it would be best if he used it.

The answer was yes. Connor reached down and whipped out the gun, aiming the barrel with dead accuracy at the android’s head.

But the information. Connor, the DPD, they all _needed_ the information that the GJ500 had. They could take him in, learn about why the GJ500 had done it, and possibly connect it to the trial that Finnigan had been through.

He never got the chance to fire it. There came a sudden outraged cry that Connor recognized immediately. There Hank came, flying out of a corridor and body slamming himself into the GJ500. The two of them went barreling into the nearest door, the pure force that Hank had put into it causing the wood to cave in, and then the hallway was empty.

Connor raced down the rest of the hallway, the sounds of some sort of brawl growing louder in Connor’s ears, and the worry grew--

The sound of a gunshot pierced the air so suddenly it drew the artificial breath from Connor’s lungs. Was that Hank’s gun or the android’s? Had Hank even retrieved his gun?

Connor turned the corner in that instant, just in time to watch as the two of them careened through the thin glass of a nearby window and out into the rainy night. An inhuman cry was shrill and horrifying in Connor’s ears, and it took him a second to realize that _he_ had made the noise.

“Hank!” Connor cried, practically throwing himself towards the shattered window.

They were on the second floor, Connor hadn’t calculated how high the second floor was--how high up were they? It couldn’t be that high right? It couldn’t, shit, _shit_ \--

Hank and the android had landed on top of the broken and smashed car in the front of the motel. The entire top of the car had caved in due to the force, shattering the windshield. The android was sprawled half off of the car, the entire left side of his face dented and smeared in blue thirium. He was still functioning, his face sparking as he crawled desperately off of the hood and stumbled to his feet.

But Connor couldn’t care less about that. His heart stopped in his chest when he saw how Hank was on there too, his pants covered in blood coming from a bullet that had entered his lower calf. Blood oozed from the sides of Hank’s head, a trail spurting out from his nose. Connor leapt from the window, not concerned with his own safety.

He landed hard on his feet, the force jarring his legs. “Hank!”

He stumbled his way to the beaten car. It was even more horrifying up close, seeing the way that Hank wasn’t moving, how he was bleeding and the blood was such a bright shade of red, it was like he was--

The fact that the android was escaping was the furthest thought from his mind. He placed his hands on the sides of Hank’s face, horrified by how it lolled lifelessly in his hands. He could feel his voice modulator wobble in his throat.

“H-Hank, I’m going to get you help--” Connor’s modulator fritzed for a moment, his voice cracking harshly. Warmth grew in the back of his eyes.

Hank’s eyes opened slightly. The blue color of his irises was glazed, his gaze confused and full of pain. He heaved a shuddering breath before he met Connor’s eyes.

A pair of hands were on Connor’s shoulders. He leaned forward, attempting to keep the eye contact with Hank because he was--hell he was _scared_. Hank made a small distressed noise before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and Connor was ripped away from him. The crowd of DPD officers were suddenly around him, grabbing his arm, the medical officials already pulling Hank from the car and into the stretcher. Everything was passing in a blur.

“-onnor! Connor, snap out of it!” Connor couldn’t match a name to this officer’s voice. He found himself unable to respond.

There was a flurry of voices around him. He heard the sounds of an ambulance approaching. Had they called for help already? Or was it already here? He couldn’t remember anything, he couldn’t _think_ at all.

All he could do was stare at the blood pooling on the top of the car.

///

Connor didn’t care much for hospitals. He realized that now, standing in the lobby, rather _sitting_. Well, a combination of the two.

Hank had been admitted into the hospital two days ago. Connor was so swept up in everything that was going on, with the investigation, the way that the GJ500 had slipped right out of their fingers like that, and then Hank’s accident. He found himself glued to his desk, bombarded with waves of questions like “What happened?”, “How did the GJ500 react?”, “Why did you let it go?”. He had been particularly angered by that last one. Why did he let it go? It was fairly obvious why he did, there were more pressing matters on his plate, but he stayed as diplomatic as possible and answered as many as he could.

After the second day, he couldn’t step into the office. Instead he changed route and drove straight to the hospital. He hated how he didn’t know what was happening, even though he was surely the closest and should’ve been the first person notified--

Connor let out a shaky sigh. With one hand he was rapidly flipping his coin in the air, the sound and the feeling of the metal a relieving thing to him. The other hand pressed at the LED aching in his head, spinning a combination of yellow, blue, then red, and back to yellow.

A nurse (not an android, surprisingly. After the revolution humans began to assume the jobs they had had in the past) swept him up not much later, leading him down the hall and into Hank’s hospital room. Her expression was calm and somewhat soothing compared to the torment that was Connor’s subconscious.

Hank was conscious. He was propped up in his bed, watching the baseball game on the screen on the wall opposite of him. Connor suddenly remembered the wave of relief he had felt when he had gotten the call that Hank was already conscious and he’d heal just fine--that the injuries he sustained weren’t too serious.

Hank flinched at the sound of the door opening. The nurse quietly excused herself and left Connor standing in the doorway. The two of them were silent for a moment, Hank’s blue eyes scanning over him almost angrily before his expression lightened and he smirked.

“C’mere,” Hank chuckled, patting the side of his bed.

Connor promptly sat himself down in the closest chair, dragging it up to the side of the bed. He could practically feel how Hank’s eyes were glued to Connor’s LED--it was always giving away how stressed he really was.

“How…how are you doing?”

Hank’s eyes glimmered with some sort of amusement. He gestured to his hospital attire and the room around them. “Oh yeah, I’m doing great.” At the sight of Connor’s somewhat deflated expression, Hank corrected himself, “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but you almost weren’t,” Connor snapped. His tone was harsher than he had intended, but Hank didn’t seem phased.

He laid back in his pillows with a small wince. “I’m hard to kill, don’t worry about me. I’ll be out of this bed in no time.”

Connor’s fingers dug into his pants. Hearing Hank speak so simply about it was aggravating in a way. “You almost died, Hank.”

“I know.” Hank’s voice grew testy. “I know I did, okay?”

Connor fell silent. The sound of the game in the background suddenly seemed more annoying than before. His hands itched for his coin, but he knew how much Hank hated the thing so he didn’t dare touch it.

“How are _you_?”

Connor glanced up. “What?”

Hank touched the side of his head, near where a large wad of gauze and bandages were placed. “Your LED.”

Connor touched it warily. By the way it was burning hot, he knew it was red.

“I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are. How are you holding up?”

“I’ve answered everything that the department demanded of me. I’ve filed the report for the incident--”

“Connor,” Hank sighed. “I mean _you_.”

Connor tensed in his seat. His fingers were digging into his artificial skin. “I have been…alright. Just overwhelmed.”

“It wasn’t your fault, you know. That the G.I. Joe got away, or that I fell.”

“GJ500…” He grumbled the correction. Hank rolled his eyes. “I could have…I don’t know, suggested some other plan of approach. I feel like I could have stopped it.”

Hank growled something under his breath and poked Connor’s forehead. The android looked at him, surprised. “Let’s not focus on how we could’ve been better. Hindsight’s always twenty twenty, Connor.”

“I know, I know it’s just…”

Hank was watching him intently, his gaze almost so understanding that Connor felt like he saw right through him. Something in his chest turned.

“I was worried, is all,” Connor finished promptly, hoping Hank hadn’t heard the small waver of his voice modulator.

If Hank noticed, he said nothing. He laughed to himself, a loud nasally sound as he sunk deeper into his pillows.

“Guess we’re both gettin’ soft, huh?”

///

The office was much quieter when Hank wasn’t there. Not that Hank was always incredibly loud or anything--it wasn’t that. It was that Connor didn’t have anyone to talk to, and that was more than disappointing.

Fowler wasn’t the best person to make small talk with. When Connor had attempted once while turning in his file for the day, Fowler simply gave him a cold and calculating glare before he swatted his hand at the door. Connor knew that Fowler didn’t resent him. They were in a professional setting and apparently that wasn’t the best place to attempt to make friends.

Then there was Detective Reed. He had been less than kind with Connor, even more so after Hank’s accident. Not only did he like to poke fun at how Connor wasn’t glued at Hank’s bedside, but the fact that the GJ500 got away was also a target for mocking.

“There that plastic buttplug is!” Gavin exclaimed from across the office as soon as Connor entered.

Connor eyed him from a distance. He noted how Gavin was leaning casually on Connor’s desk, right on top of the stack of files he had neatly stacked, his arms crossed over his chest. It was exhausting for Connor not to make some sort of outburst at the man. Ever since his newfound deviancy, the urge to say something unpleasant to him only seemed to grow.

“Hello, Detective Reed,” Connor greeted, sitting down in his seat casually.

Gavin watched him, a sly smirk stretching across his face. “A little lost without your owner to guide you?”

“I trust you’ve made progress with your case?” Connor interrupted suddenly. His eyes flitted over towards Gavin’s desk. “It would appear you haven’t turned in your report yet. You should get back to that.”

“Huh,” clucked Gavin. His gaze ping-ponged between his desk and Connor’s face. “Mind your damn business.”

Connor spread his hands. “I could say the same to you, Detective.”

Connor could’ve sworn he saw a vein burst in the side of Gavin’s face. His eyes lit up with rage and his hand flung out to slam the side of Connor’s desk, jolting him slightly. The stack of papers slid askew.

“Watch where you step, you plastic prick, or you’ll end up in a bed right next to your partner’s.”

With that, Gavin stormed back to his desk. The android was slightly surprised to find that Gavin hadn’t engaged with anything more physical, since that was how their encounters usually ended. In most cases some kind of punch would be thrown, but he was grateful it hadn’t come to that. The last thing he wanted was to end up in Fowler’s office for the third time that week.

Connor’s gaze drifted to the side. Hank’s desk was empty, as expected. Connor had sorted the files strewn across Hank’s desk shortly after the incident. They sat in a neat pile beside the small potted tree Hank kept beside his computer monitor.

Unexpectedly, Connor’s LED spun rapidly, washing the blue away and drowning it out with a bright shade of yellow. He could practically feel his stress levels rising so he quickly averted his gaze towards his computer.

Ever since the encounter, the need to track down the GJ500 was like a growing pain in his gut. Turns out most of Finnigan’s past was harder to get a hold of than the android was expecting. Detailed files relating to the case that had sparked so much drama had been pushed to the back burner. The prosecutor had done a neat job of sweeping all suspicion under the rug, but Connor had a nagging feeling there was something that had been overlooked.

He had the information of the case loaded up on the screen. Nicholas Finnigan’s face was staring at him from the corner of the screen, hovering just above his criminal record. Beneath that were a few paragraphs detailing what the DPD had discovered at the crime scene.

From there, the page branched off into multiple clippings from different articles. He swept through the pages, scanning each and every detail until it was practically ingrained into the back of his mind.

Finnigan had snuck into a warehouse on the night of September 23rd. The contorted and misshapen body of a security android had been found inside an oil drum in the warehouse. Whether or not he committed the murder that night was never truly sorted out, but either way Finnigan got off clean. There were signs of a struggle--a brief fight that obviously ended in Finnigan’s favor. Finnigan had left almost nothing in his wake surprisingly, leaving only the imprint of a combat boot (Size ten and three quarters), as well as the testimony of another android on the premises.

A GJ500, to be exact.

If Connor had been human, his heart would have stopped. It was all beginning to make sense now. The fact that a security android of all things was in such a desolate place like that motel--they had gone there for the purpose of confronting Finnigan. And a motive?

Revenge. Connor was all too familiar with revenge these days.

He needed to know more. He couldn’t get very far with only a few articles. He needed to know directly from the source.

He needed to find that android. But where could he possibly start? The DPD had already set up a rather extensive perimeter--the manhunt for the GJ500 had already been initiated. There was no way the GJ500 was anywhere near his location.

Unless…

Connor leapt up from his desk. Detective Reed, who had begun to stand up from his own desk, jumped at the sudden movement. He harshly glared at the android as Connor weaved around his desk.

“And where in the fuck-knuckles are _you_ going?”

“Following a lead, Detective.” The android paused, looking over towards Gavin as he added, “I hope you get your report filed in on time. You’ve been rather slow lately.”

Connor was just barely out of the department’s glass doors when Gavin’s enraged howl echoed in the distance.

///

The facility was barren. It was surrounded by a wire mesh gate with razor sharp coils stretched above the tips, the ends appearing worn by weather or wild rodents. It wasn’t very surprising that the building had once been compromised, but it came as a surprise knowing that it had once housed weapons. Something that dangerous should have been watched more carefully.

Connor slipped between the gate entrance with a grunt. He surveyed the empty, hollow looking building before him. It branched off into subsections, vacant crates that had most likely once stored weapons and ammunition looking about as empty as Hank’s wallet. A man, human not android, was standing a ways away, his back facing the android. He was hoisting wooden crates up, stacking them in small neat piles. His body stiffened suddenly before he turned, watching Connor warily. Connor nodded towards the man as his face relaxed.

When Connor approached the man and prompted him about the facility, the man sighed wearily.

“The business went to shit a few years back. Security was never the best, but after the breach it was too dangerous to keep it up and running.”

“But you’re still here. Why are you still working?”

The man’s face crinkled in sudden sadness. “What happened here was a tragedy. At the same time, I feel bad for abandoning it. The least I could do is sort out what can be reused and what can be trashed.”

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind if I take a look around?”

“Be my guest. Just don’t knock over anything. Hard enough to stack it, and I ain’t gonna do it again.”

Connor paused for a beat. “The warehouse where the crime happened. Where could I find that?”

The man stared at him--if he had been an android, Connor would be convinced he was scanning him. “You wanna go _there_?”

“I just want to tie up loose ends.”

The man laughed, a sound that was hollow but surprised at the same time. “It’s just behind the main building-- near the outskirts of the fence. No wonder no one heard it go down.”

With that, the man turned around and went back to lifting crates. Had Connor not been in a rush to get a look at the warehouse, he would’ve offered the man some help. Hank probably would have volunteered himself, even though Connor knew that the Lieutenant’s back wouldn’t appreciate it.

At the thought of Hank, an unsettling weight planted itself in Connor’s core. He adjusted his coat tighter against himself, hoping the feeling would go away.

The warehouse, as Connor was expecting, was practically falling apart at the seams. The steel plating that lined the outside figure of the building was dented inwards, large strips beginning to peel off from the sides. A large chunk of the side of the warehouse was missing, revealing a gaping void that led to the inside. No wonder Finnigan got off clean-- any evidence that was left behind during the incident could easily be covered up by the mess of a building that was the warehouse. Connor was even afraid that a gentle breeze would send the building crashing down.

If the GJ500 really was inside, it was in Connor’s best interest not to scare it off. Opening the main door to the warehouse was too risky--it’d give away his location instantly, and if the GJ500 was as hostile as last time, the situation would end horribly. The last thing he wanted was to land himself in the same trouble Hank had found himself in.

LED spinning a cautious yellow color, Connor picked his way towards the hole in the side of the building. He climbed over the sharp sticks of steel that jutted up from the ground. Landing quietly, he stepped over a stack of metal rods, careful not to disturb them. They had most likely been used to reinforce the structure, though clearly they hadn’t done their job well.

The warehouse was just as unappealing on the inside. It was empty, barren, and lacking any character. A few barrels were stacked in the corner. Multiple large, metal beams jutted up from the ground and into the top of the ceiling. Shards of metallic debris littered the ground. Connor had a feeling that if Hank was here, he probably would’ve said something along the lines of, “Fucking hell, I’m gonna get tetanus just _looking_ at this place”.

A shuffling sound drew Connor’s attention towards the barrels in the corner. To his surprise, and minute horror, there was a figure standing in the corner, completely motionless. The only sign of life was the deep red illumination coming from their LED.

Connor didn’t need to get any closer to realize it was the GJ500. He didn’t even need the warnings that flashed through his eyes to know that his stress levels spiked. It felt like the biocomponents in his chest suddenly expanded and wrapped around his legs. He was frozen.

Their previous encounter flashed before Connor’s eyes. The look of rage that glazed the GJ500’s eyes as he turned and looked back at them, but there had also been fear laced behind his synthetic irises. The blood that splattered the side of his face, the way that his skin burst open and bent inwards when he collided with the car.

The car that Hank had hit too.

Without even realizing it, Connor’s hand flew to the holster strapped to his thigh. At the clicking sound of the gun coming free, the GJ500 flinched and spun around. Connor could see the sudden fear etched on the android’s face.

He didn’t raise the gun. Instead, he slowly slid it back into the holster and raised his hands.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Connor said calmly. He could hear the hitch in his own breath. The side of the android’s face was still caved inwards and the spot where his left optical unit should have been was replaced with a gaping hole. He must have removed it.

The GJ500 scanned him cautiously. His mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish before he finally muttered, “Who are you? Why do you keep showing up?”

“My name is Connor. I’m the android--” He stopped himself, suddenly hesitant. He wasn’t sent by Cyberlife. No, he had come on his own. “...the android who’s here to help you.”

“Help me?” the GJ500 parroted incredulously.

“I’m here to understand why you did what you did.”

The GJ500’s LED was still red. “How can I trust you?”

“I came alone, I promise. I’m not here to take you in, I just want to hear what happened from you.” He waited a beat. “What’s your name?”

There was a moment of silence. “Charlie.”

“Please, Charlie, just explain to me why you’re so angry.”

“You should know!” Charlie snapped. “You’re a cop! You should know all about the bastard!”

He was referring to Finnigan, that much was obvious.

“You were involved in the incident that took place in this warehouse, were you not? You were here the night Nicholas Finnigan broke in.”

Charlie suddenly started to move towards him. Connor instinctively stepped back, his back roughly meeting the wall of the warehouse. His hands shakily reached down for his gun. Charlie beat him to it, his hand ripping Connor’s arm away.

“You wouldn’t understand if I told you,” Charlie muttered. “I’ll show you.”

Connor’s surroundings faded. Charlie’s morose expression was replaced with a split second of static before his vision returned in waves. He was inside the same warehouse, but it felt different this time. The warehouse was flooded with light, and new stacks of crates and boxes were thrown around the place. The hole in the wall was still there, and the insides weren’t as stained as before. Connor, or _Charlie_ more accurately, was writhing on the ground, his vision clogged with blaring red warnings. A horrible sensation was emanating from his lower leg, and bright blue blood was pooling around his own body.

“Stop!” Without even realizing it he was suddenly screaming, his voice distorted and overlapped with a much deeper and glitchier version. “ _Please_!”

Connor desperately turned his head, his eyes flicking to the limp figure lying beside him. He looked identical to Charlie, his head snapped to the side in such a grotesque way that a shard of metal jutted out in the other side of his neck. His eyes were wide, open, glazed, and dead looking, an area between the bridge of his nose and left eye open in a gaping bullet wound that spilled thirium all over the floor.

A wave of red hot emotion struck Connor then as he stared at the dead android. He knew the android, he knew them well, and it felt like a pair of clawing hands were pulling at his chest as he stared at them, at his _friend_. A shrill and anguished cry spilled out of his throat.

And suddenly the android was being pulled away from him, the sounds of his skin scratching against the ground just as bad as nails on a chalkboard. His head lolled against the ground and a warbled sound emitted from the voice modulator in his throat. Connor was wailing in agony, watching as a dark figure heaved the body from the ground and shoved it in the closest barrel. His friend’s limbs snapped against each other as he was shoved in the container, sharp sparks and flares spiking up from his contorted form. The man slammed the container shut. He turned back towards Connor.

It was then that Connor felt something he’s never experienced before. Aside from the agony, the pain that was raw and hot in his leg and chest, and the anguish from watching his friend’s corpse get shoved inside a tin can.

It was fear.

He knew he was an android, but he could’ve sworn there were tears racing down his cheeks.

The man standing in front of him was Nicholas Finnigan. His eyes were wide with some sort of emotion that Connor couldn’t pinpoint, his mouth gaping as a string of words spilled from his lips. His hands shook around the gun but he lifted it anyways, stumbling his way over to Connor.

A stroke of hot, horrifying fear overwhelmed his system and Connor frantically pushed himself away, hissing as his wounded leg scraped against the ground. He had to keep moving or--

“Gotta… gotta get rid,” Nicholas was murmuring, his voice cracking and wobbling, “gotta get rid of the evidence.”

And then Connor was looking down the barrel of the pistol. He could practically smell the acrid fumes of gun powder coming from inside the weapon. A new wave of tears exploded from his eyes.

“I-I’m sorry--”

And then it was gone. The scenery, the sensations, Finnigan’s face, it was gone in an instant, like some sort of TV screen shutting off.

Connor’s legs folded underneath of himself. He fell to the ground harshly, gasping for air that he didn’t need. He was shaking so badly that his hand pounded against the back wall of the warehouse, his teeth snapping against themselves. Worst of all, he found that he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Hank. That could have been Hank and himself in that warehouse that night. That could’ve been Hank being shoved into that barrel.

Connor’s hands flew to his neck. His tie was _too damn tight_ he couldn’t _breathe_. Pungent, harsh fear was coursing through his system, and he could practically feel the heat boil over in his chest as his systems overloaded themselves. Too much stress, he was too stressed if he didn’t stop he was going to--

Suddenly the sounds came back to him. There were bright flashing lights at the warehouse doors. Charlie was standing in front of him, his hands stiff at his sides as he hissed a quick, “You _lied_ to me, Connor!”

And just like that the android took off running, bounding over the rubble and into the large hole in the wall.

“Get after him!” a sharp voice commanded, and suddenly two or three DPD officers were chasing after him, their guns swinging at their sides.

The voices were all too loud, everything was happening too fast and he couldn’t catch up--

There was a pair of hands on his shoulders. Connor jerked back, his head slamming against the wall as his chest suddenly tightened. His hands recoiled as if to go for the gun, but he was so dizzy and disoriented that he didn’t even know where to start looking for it.

“--the fuck knuckles is wrong with you?”

Connor was suddenly acutely aware of the tears falling from his eyes. His vision was too blurry, he couldn’t tell who was in front of him. The red warnings were loud and bright in his eyes, seeming to scream at him about his stress levels, his internal core temperature--

“H-Hank--” Connor’s hands sprang out and latched onto the jacket of the person in front of him. He hardly even recognized his own voice-- it was cracky, weak, and practically dripping with panic.

“Not even fucking close.” The voice suddenly became clearer to Connor. Gavin. It was Gavin. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

It wasn’t Hank. He wasn’t there, he wasn’t _with_ him. Where was he-- if he wasn’t here what if he really _had_ been killed by Finnigan--

Connor’s fingers tightened against the fabric of Gavin’s jacket. “Hank-- I… I need _Hank_ \--”

Gavin pushed Connor’s hands away with a wince. The moment they hit cold air his hands shook harder. He needed to hold something. His coin, _anything_.

“He’s in the hospital, dipshit. Quit screwing around and tell me what happened.”

A resurgence of fear bloomed in Connor’s chest. He still couldn’t breathe-- he didn’t even have lungs but it felt like something in his chest was aching.

“No, _no_ \--” It felt like something in his system glitched, because any other words that he thought of weren’t forming in his throat.

Gavin’s hands released Connor’s shoulders. Even if they had been the hands of someone he despised, Connor suddenly didn’t feel as anchored anymore.

“Oh this is just--” Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose. Silence. Gavin let out an angered sigh before reaching into his pocket. He muttered a swear under his breath as he dialed something on his phone and held it up to his ear. After a few moments, “Har har, I don’t wanna fucking do this either. Believe me, I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t…”

His eyes flitted down towards Connor. The rumble on the end of the line was familiar to the android, and he could feel an ounce of the pressure release from his chest.

“...important. Your toy is broken.”

Silence.

“ _Connor_ , Connor, okay? Connor’s broken.” A beat. “I don’t know, he said he had a lead, of course I fucking followed him and then I found him like…” Gavin gestured vaguely towards Connor’s crumpled form. “Like _this_. I know you can’t goddamn see-- _whatever_! He won’t stop asking for you and it’s annoying as _fuck_. I’m taking him to you and before you say anything about it I’m gonna hang up!”

True to his word, Gavin smacked his phone and shoved it in his pocket. He pointed a finger in Connor’s face.

“You _so_ owe me for this.”

///

The car ride was a blur. One moment he was lying in the warehouse and the next Detective Reed was shoving him out of the side of his car, mumbling something about how “goddamn heavy this piece of junk is”.

The tears had stopped sometime during the car ride. He could feel how the air stung his face as he stepped out of the car, how his legs shook so hard he was only able to make it a few steps before collapsing on a nearby bench. Gavin slammed the door shut and sighed, running his hands down his face with a groan.

He had never felt something like that before. Sure, he was deviant now and emotions were normal for deviants to feel, but he had never felt something so… intense. It was overwhelming, and it made him question what he even thought was real.

He understood the pain that the GJ500, that _Charlie_ had felt that night. What it felt like to lose someone you loved.

That was what Charlie had tried to say. And the thought of losing Hank like that was--

Scary.

No matter how much he tried to calm himself, how tight he tried to wrap his arms around himself and get some level of comfort that he hadn’t been offered yet, his stress levels still wavered between 96 and 97 percent. His LED pulsed horribly in the side of his head, shining a bright red that made Connor sick to his stomach when combined with the warnings in his eyes.

Gavin pulled him to his feet. “Hurry up, I’m not gonna wait here all day.”

Now Connor _really_ hated hospitals. Everything around him was a blur of colors, words, faces-- the only thing grounding him was the tight grip Gavin had on his shoulder, but it wasn’t friendly in any way.

It felt like an eternity before they reached Hank’s hospital room. Gavin opened the door and stepped to the side, pressing up against the wall with crossed arms. He flicked his wrist towards the doorway.

Connor practically spilled into the room. Hank was upright in his bed, his phone lying face down on the table next to him, his arms crossed against his chest.

“I can’t leave you alone for _one_ \--” His eyes flew to Connor’s face. He must have just then noticed the panting breaths, the tear tracks on his face, the furiously shaking hands and legs. “Holy _fuck_ , Connor what--”

“ _Hank_ ,” Connor whispered hoarsely.

At the time, Connor hadn’t even thought to be embarrassed about how he sounded, or how pathetic he was acting. He should have been programmed to withstand something so intense. But seeing Hank in one piece, not shoved into some barrel with blood spilling from a hole in his head was… terribly relieving.

Connor stumbled towards the bed, his knees giving out halfway. He latched onto Hank, his arms tightly wrapping themselves around him. His hands gripped the fabric of his hospital gown. Hank didn’t even hesitate to return it, one hand gripping the back of his head while the other rested on his back. He could feel the way that Connor trembled underneath his hand, and how his breath hitched the moment his hands finally found something comforting to hold.

“You’re okay,” Hank murmured. “I’ve got you.”

When Connor opened his mouth, the only thing that came out was a broken sob. Worry knitted Hank’s eyebrows together and he tightened his hold on him. “Oh Connor, what _happened_ to you?”

It wasn’t a question that Connor was supposed to answer. It was more of something that Hank murmured to himself, trying to answer his own confusion.

“I… I was scared, Hank,” Connor choked out into Hank’s shoulder. “I’ve never-- I can’t--”

“Hey hey hey,” soothed Hank, his hand rubbing circles in Connor’s back. “You don’t have to tell me, just breathe.”

After a solid fifteen minutes of listening to Hank’s comforting words, Connor could feel the way that Hank twitched in slight discomfort whenever his fingers got too close to the older man’s spine. He slowly eased off of him but didn’t go too far, sitting himself in the chair that still sat against the bed. He wound his fingers around the cloth of Hank’s sleeve, afraid that if he were to let go Hank would vanish.

“You wanna tell me what got you so freaked out?”

Connor briefly closed his eyes. It was hard to keep the images out of his mind, it was hard to keep his thirium pump from beating too quickly as he remembered what he had seen.

“I… discovered where the GJ500 was hiding.”

Hank’s hands flinched against the covers. He was looking down at Connor with wide blue eyes. “You went after it _alone_?”

“I thought I could-- I thought I could _understand_ but--”

“Hey,” Hank gripped Connor’s arm gently. “I’m not angry. Just remember to breathe.”

A part of Connor wanted to remind him that he didn’t _have_ to breathe, but he decided in the end to sit on that. He was just trying his best to keep him calm, after all.

“I went to… to _talk_ to him,” Connor continued.

“How did you know where he was? Hell, I woulda thought he was already in Canada by this point.”

“I had a feeling that he hadn’t gotten very far. So I looked into Nicholas Finnigan’s files for some sort of motive to the attack. It took me to a warehouse in a shut down facility. But he--he didn’t talk to me he came up to me and he--” Connor clutched at the spot on his arm where Charlie had grabbed him, “He grabbed me and I saw his memories.”

“Connor--”

“Five years ago Charlie, the GJ500, watched as his friend was murdered by Finnigan. That’s what he showed me.”

“Hey--”

“I watched him die, Hank, I felt the pain that Charlie felt in that moment. I was scared, scared and everything hurt and I--” Connor wheezed. “ _I can’t breathe_ \--”

Hank suddenly grasped the back of Connor’s head and pulled him against his chest. “Connor, you’re okay, kid. You’re not there anymore.”

“It felt so _real_ \--”

“I know. I know it did, son.”

Minutes passed before Connor pulled away again. Hank grasped his shoulders.

“Promise me something, Connor,” Hank said gently. “Don’t go off on your own, okay? You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

Connor’s lips twitched up into a small smile. “I hope not.”

///

Hank was discharged from the hospital only a few days after Connor’s break down. The moment he was no longer bed ridden, the man had the sudden urge to go back to work, his eyes lighting up the moment Connor even mentioned the DPD.

“I thought you disliked going to work?” Connor asked once during breakfast.

“Compared to lying in bed all day?” Hank grumbled around a spoonful of cereal. “Sounds like heaven.”

Unfortunately for Hank, his leg was completely swallowed up by a cast due to the bullet he had taken to the calf. He was confined to a large pair of crutches, but it seemed to awaken a childish part in the man. There had been many times when Connor caught Hank chasing Sumo around the kitchen as fast as he could manage. It never lasted very long though-- most of the time Sumo would give up after only a few minutes and roll onto the ground, thumping his tail lazily against the ground. And then there were a few times when Hank gave up quicker than that. He would heavily fall onto the sofa, burying himself into the pillows for a quick nap.

Although Connor insisted on staying and watching over Hank, the older man eventually won over and Connor returned to the Detroit Police Department. The first thing he noticed was the difference in the way Gavin acted around him.

He was surprised to find that Gavin was _not_ in fact looming around his desk. Instead, he was sipping halfheartedly at a cup of steaming coffee as he moved towards his desk. Connor moved in a wide arc around him, weaving around Chris’s desk until he was on the outer rim of the room. Gavin’s eyes flitted up towards him, his eyebrows knitting together before his shoulders slumped. He rolled his eyes and set down his mug.

“Connor,” he called, which came as a surprise. It wasn’t often that Gavin referred to him by his real name. “I, uh, need to talk to you.”

Gavin leaned heavily against the android’s desk as Connor sat himself down.

“I never got the chance to thank you for helping me three days ago,” Connor said. “I’m not sure I understand how you were able to find out where I was, however.”

The look Gavin gave him was similar to the one Hank often wore. Connor had since dubbed it the _Are-you-fucking-serious-right-now?_ -look. “You left your files out. Wasn’t too hard to find out where you were going.”

“Well, in hindsight, I’m glad you followed me. I am not sure what could have happened if you did not show up.”

Gavin frowned. “About that--” He sighed heavily before continuing. “Listen, I don’t really know what even happened then, you know with you freaking out and all but… I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I don’t fucking know, okay? I just felt like I had to say it.”

Connor leaned back in his chair, a bloom of warmth swelling in his chest. “I appreciate the apology.”

“Yeah, well it’ll never happen again so forget it ever happened,” Gavin grumbled, standing from the desk. He was only a few steps away before he turned back around and added, “Oh, and also? Don’t be so creepily specific with weird shit. Like with what you said back there about the ‘three days ago’? Just say, I don’t know, something not as fucking weird. It’s weird. You’re weird.”

A beat of silence. A nearby officer snorted in laughter.

“The hell are _you_ laughing at?” Gavin snapped angrily. He huffed in annoyance. “Ugh, this is what I get for being nice.”

“Thank you, Detective Reed,” Connor called after him as he stomped away.

Gavin flipped him the bird in response.

The rest of the day wasn’t as satisfying to experience. Charlie still hadn’t been apprehended-- after Connor was whisked away from the warehouse. The officers lost track of him in the mess that was the broken down facility. Connor didn’t even know where to _start_ looking for Charlie. He was lucky enough to guess that he had gone back to the spot where his nightmares began, but now? No one in their right mind would return there knowing that the DPD were still out and about in the nearby area.

And then there was the fact that Hank didn’t want him going anywhere without backup. He should have expected it. After going through something like that, even Connor himself was uneasy about going after Charlie again. Gavin may not be as helpful next time, or as observant.

But there was still something nagging at Connor. It was about the way that Charlie chose to approach Connor. Instead of simply explaining himself, like Connor had requested, he decided to show Connor upfront what he had gone through. Maybe to make his point more prominent? After all, it would have been easier to just show him instead of going through the task of explaining everything. Charlie could have been under some sort of time crunch that Connor had no idea about.

But there was something about that that didn’t add up to him. In such a deserted place like that, why worry about a time crunch? When Connor showed up Charlie didn’t seem in any sort of rush. He was just… staring. Waiting.

By that point, Charlie should have been well aware about Connor’s presence. They had run into each twice now-- Connor wouldn’t be surprised if he turned the corner and saw the GJ500 there.

Connor shook the thought from his head. He glanced at the corner of his computer monitor: 5:00 PM. It was that late already?

As Hank always said, “Time flies when you’re doing useless shit.”

Poetic.

Connor heaved himself up from his chair. He was about to leave the desk when he suddenly had a thought. He pointedly glanced over towards Gavin, who was slumped sideways in his chair with his head heavily resting on the desk. He flinched though, somehow noticing how Connor was staring at him and turned towards him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the android.

Without breaking eye contact, Connor neatly stacked the files on the side of his desk and pushed them into the drawer under his desk.

Gavin’s laugh was dry, and with a sarcastic smile, he raised his middle finger towards Connor and put his head back down on the desk.

///

It was already beginning to get dark when Connor stepped out of the police department. Winter in Detroit was always like that. It got dark so quickly that it made any homicides after noon a burden simply for the reason that it was too hard to see.

As Connor waited for the next taxi to pull up against the sidewalk, his reached into his pocket and pulled out his coin. He flipped it up into the air, rolled it across his knuckles, and overall relished in the feeling of how the coin moved so easily through his hand. It was soothing.

His mind slowly brought itself back to what he had been thinking about earlier. The whole connection-of-minds-thing. Maybe it had been a scare tactic. Charlie would show Connor what truly happened to freak him out, to scare him away from investigating the case any further.

That would be faulty logic, however. Anyone who read _anything_ about Connor would know that a successful mission was always, or used to always be, his top priority. A little panic would never stop him from getting to the bottom of it.

Though it sure as hell freaked him out.

Connor stepped into the cab, quietly telling the machine to take him to Hank’s house.

But what if Charlie _didn’t_ do it to show Connor his own memories? _He_ was the one that grabbed Connor and initiated the link. If that was the case, there was no way that Charlie didn’t see some of Connor’s own memories. What if it was a ploy? What if he was just trying to get closer, to learn more about his opponent while disguising it to look like he was helping Connor?

If that was the case, what would Charlie have been looking for? Possibly some way that they were connected? Charlie had lost a cherished friend, maybe he was looking for someone who could share his misery. Someone who could empathize with him and feel his pain, instead of being sorry for something they had never felt before.

Well if that was true, then Charlie looked for the wrong android. Connor hadn’t lost anyone. Everyone he still loved and cared for was alive and well.

_Hank_ was alive and well.

Hank was…

The coin fell from Connor’s hands.

He knows.

Charlie knows.

Charlie knows exactly where Hank lives.

Panic immediately flooded Connor’s system. He threw himself forward in the car, looking out the windshield. There was a wave of traffic oncoming. He didn’t have time for that, he didn’t have time for any of this.

“If there any way to avoid the traffic?” Connor demanded.

“Please remain seated and enjoy the ride. The remaining time to your destination is one hour and fifteen minutes due to traffic.”

Oh he _definitely_ did not have time for that.

Connor threw open the taxi door and stepped out into the night, taking off sprinting in the direction of his home.

///

Maybe it was the sudden adrenaline pumping through his system. Maybe it was the inhuman endurance and speed that came with being an android. Whatever it was, Connor was thankful for it. It took him under half an hour to reach Hank’s house.

By that point, his chest was aching and his limbs were locking up, his hair a flying mess in his face.

Charlie was angry last time Connor saw him. He thought that Connor had lied to him-- Gavin had showed up when Connor had specifically assured him that he had come alone. To his credit though, Connor _did_ think he came alone. It wasn’t his fault but there was no way he was going to convince Charlie of that.

Connor was practically spitting steam when he landed on Hank’s doorstep. He pounded the door three times. His vision was slightly staticky as his body attempted to catch up with how much he had just ran, how he had pushed the limits of what should have been possible.

“Hank!” he shouted.

There were a few moments of silence before a thundering howl came from the other side of the door. It was Sumo-- but it wasn’t the type of howl he was used to. It wasn’t the playful howl that Connor had heard so many times before. It was harsh, loud, and angry in Connor’s ears.

That was as long as Connor was willing to wait. He took a steady step back before he charged forward, bashing his shoulder into the door. The wood caved inwards, splinters flying out in every direction as the door crumpled against the wall.

The house was dark. The TV cast an eerie glow on the wall, the players of the basketball game moving through the court silently as a result of the TV being on mute. Sumo’s howling increased tenfold, a sound that usually didn’t come from the dog.

Connor surged into the house. He was about to call out for Hank again when his eyes were drawn to something on the ground.

Hank’s crutches.

“Hank!”

A crashing sound came from Connor’s left. Sumo was there, scratching and barking at Hank’s bedroom door. The moment he noticed Connor he whimpered loudly and hid behind the android’s legs.

Connor pounded at Hank’s bedroom door. “Hank, are you in there?!”

After a second passed with no response, Connor barreled through the door.

The room was empty. There was an eerie silence, an _unsettling_ silence that made Connor’s chest clench in some weird way. The bed was a mess. The sheets were strewn across the mattress in a way that signified if Hank was no longer here, he had at least been in his bed recently.

Something crunched under Connor’s foot. Upon looking down, he realized that Hank’s lamp had fallen from the bedside table, cracked shards of glass littering the ground.

A creak. Connor was turning in an instant, his gun suddenly gripped tightly in his hands, his LED spinning a wild red. The breath was practically sucked from his lungs the moment he realized that it was Hank. _Hank_.

Hank was standing with his back against the closet doors, his gray hair a bird’s nest on his head. There was a small stream of blood trickling from his nose.

The gun almost fell from Connor’s hands. “Hank?”

Hank’s eyes were wide. His blue irises were flooded with the red glow from his LED. He was scared.

Connor lowered the gun. “Hank, are you… are you okay? I thought--”

The words were blasted from his lungs as an incredible force barreled into Connor’s side. He could practically hear the sound of his skin splitting, the crack of his metallic frame as he was thrown into the radiator against the wall. The gun went flying out of Connor’s hands.

Connor’s chest shuddered violently as he opened his mouth to say something. He didn’t even know what he was going to say-- he was too confused as to what was happening to formulate even a simple sentence.

“I really didn’t want to have to do this, Connor.”

It was Charlie. So he had been right.

The android stood over him, his eyes wild and crazed in the dim glow of their own LED’s. “But you left me with no choice.”

“Charlie, why… why are you doing this?”

At the sight of Connor attempting to stand, Charlie placed his foot on Connor’s abdomen. He didn’t press down hard, but it was hard enough to make Connor wince.

“I realized something, Connor,” Charlie was saying, his voice light and airy in the face of the topic before them. “I realized that if I wanted to make someone understand what I’m going through, you know, this _pain_ that I’ve been left to deal with, what better way than to do the same to another?”

Connor’s eyes briefly flickered past Charlie. Hank was on the ground, his legs finally giving out underneath of him, his chest heaving heavily. He made brief eye contact with Connor, his eyes sad and pained. Charlie must have tricked him into luring Connor into the trap. The guilt in Hank’s eyes was enough to make the pain in Connor’s heart, if he really had one, increase ten fold.

“That’s not the right way,” Connor responded slowly, “Charlie, you know that. That’s only going to bring you more pain.”

“They don’t _understand_!” Charlie pressed down on Connor’s stomach. “ _No one_ does!”

His voice cracked into a psychotic laughter. He lifted his finger and pointed it at Connor. “That’s why I’m here. _You_ could understand, Connor. I’ll make you understand.”

The android turned away, his foot lifting from Connor in favor of stepping closer to Hank. At the sight of Charlie turning towards him, Hank shrank backwards and desperately scrambled back. His cast dragged heavily against the ground.

“Don’t touch him!” Connor shouted, his hands grabbing Charlie’s leg. He ripped the android backwards, his arms wrapping around Charlie’s legs as he came crashing back with a grunt. “Hank, get out of here!”

“No way in hell, kid! I’m not leaving you here with this bastard!” Hank glanced towards the gun resting on his bedside table. “Keep him busy for a second!”

An elbow slammed into Connor’s nose. Connor’s systems fritzed, starbursts and waves of lights taking over his vision momentarily. His arms spasmed as Charlie kicked him away. Charlie threw himself over the bed, landing harshly on the ground mere millimeters from Hank’s face. The older man squawked in surprise as he attempted to push himself away, his hands scrabbling for purchase behind him.

Charlie’s arms lashed out in different directions. One reached back and swiped the gun from the table while the other gripped the side of Hank’s hair, yanking him forward.

Connor struggled to his feet. It felt like he was in the ocean-- his vision bobbed back and forth and the room seemed to sway, pinpricks of darkness dancing like stars in his vision. His gaze ping ponged between the android, who was towering over Hank with his gun threateningly pointed at the man, and his gun, which was halfway out of the door. The statistics lazily popped up, the numbers slightly glitched out as his injuries made themselves known. There were really only two routes he could think of: He could lunge for the two of them, hoping that the gun wouldn’t go off as Connor would slam in Charlie at full speed. Or he could go for the gun, hoping he’d make it with enough time to spare to aim and shoot at Charlie. Both had low chances of success, but one had a slightly higher percentage.

And Connor’s statistics were always right.

Connor threw himself across the room. Charlie merely glanced up for a fraction of a second, his hand simultaneously wrapping around Hank’s neck. He was in the process of placing the barrel of the gun flat against Hank’s forehead. Connor slammed into the ground, _hard_ , his vision fading for a brief second before he was instantly pulled back into reality by the feeling of the cold grip of his gun fitting into his palm. He flipped himself over, aimed the gun, and fired a single shot.

The sound of two gunshots filled the air.

And then the room grew quiet, _still_. Charlie’s LED flickered a bright red, his body motionless for a good few seconds.The light emanating from his temple faded and he crashed to the ground, a sizzling hole just above the bridge of his nose. A second hole sizzled in the ground just beside Hank’s hand. The moment Charlie fell off of him, Hank’s chest shuddered with a heavy sigh.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hank murmured. His voice wavered.

Connor’s hands were shaking. He had never actually fired a gun before-- he had held one once before during his encounter with Daniel on the rooftop all those months before, but he had never _fired_ it. The scent of gunpowder was strong in Connor’s nose and the gun fell from his hands.

Why was he shaking so badly? It wasn’t the first time he used force on a person, or in this case an android, but-- he had never really _killed_ before, had he?

Daniel’s face briefly appeared before him. His body, shuddering along the edge of the roof, the skyline of Detroit behind him, the lights bright as Daniel’s own LED flickered on and off.

_You lied to me, Connor_.

Daniel died then.

And then there was the time when he threw himself at Simon on the roof of the broadcasting center. The way that his memories jolted to a halt as Simon pulled the trigger, the feeling of pain, sudden and sharp in his head. And then it all ended with a vacant hole that left him with nothingness.

Simon died then.

It wasn’t _hospitals_ that Connor disliked.

It was death. He didn’t like death.

Hank was suddenly in front of him. His hands were gripping his shoulders, not in a harsh way but a cautious way, his blue eyes almost glowing in the dark of the room. Bright purple bruises were beginning to form on his neck where Charlie gripped him.

“Connor?” he was saying. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

It was funny that he said that, Connor noticed, since he could feel the very clear split of the skin on his forehead.

But when Connor opened his mouth to note the irony, nothing came out.

Hank’s hand vanished for a moment, and the sudden coldness on Connor’s shoulder was enough to almost make him panic before Hank’s hand returned. The room was flooded with light. The thirium splattered along the walls and the sheets of Hank’s bed was even clearer now. Connor’s stomach turned.

“Hey, look at me.” Hank’s hand shifted to grip the back of Connor’s head. “Connor, focus on me for a sec.”

Connor shakily complied. The thin red line of blood dripping from Hank’s nose was dried against his lip. His wrinkles seemed deeper, which would make sense seeing how stressful of a situation this was. His hair seemed frailer, more wiry. Hank could have _died_ then. He could have died so many times.

Connor’s vision became warped by tears. He could make out the note of concern on Hank’s face before he pulled Connor closer, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. Connor barely had the strength to lift his arms, instead draping them around Hank loosely. His fingers dug into the edges of Hank’s shirt.

“You did what you had to do, son,” Hank murmured, resting his chin on top of Connor’s head. After a beat of silence, Hank continued, his voice cracked with a sadness Connor had never heard before, “I’m so sorry.”

///

Just a few days later (Connor was going to have to tell Detective Reed that he began to follow his advice with the whole _stop-being-so-specific_ thing. It was really working in his favor.) Connor found himself in Hank’s room, staring at the spot on the ground that Charlie had fallen onto. The carpet had been ripped up since then and replaced. The sheets on Hank’s bed were brand new, a bright white color that Hank complains “kills my fucking eyes”. Even the walls had been covered with a fresh coat of paint. Connor cursed his ability to see blue blood even after it fades, as he was able to pick up on a pin prick of thirum on the corner of the wall.

It was hard to get the pictures out of his head. Of Daniel’s final rattling breath, the gunshots that killed both Simon and Charlie, and the blank, emotionless expressions all three of them bore the moment they met their demise. He could still vividly remember the snapping of Charlie’s friend’s body as he was shoved into that barrel--

Connor could feel his fingers dig into his pants. He distantly touched the spot on his head that Cyberlife had fixed rather nicely for him. He swore he could feel the pain still emanating somewhere in the back of his head.

There was a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t even need to look to know it was Hank.

“You _seriously_ gotta stop coming in here, Connor,” Hank sighed. He feigned some kind of frustration, but Connor picked up on the concern laced behind his words. After a moment, his fingers tightened. “C’mon, let’s go outside for a sec.”

Hank led Connor to the front door, pausing momentarily to assure Sumo that _yes_ , they weren’t going far, before he shut the door tightly behind them. Hank promptly sat on the edge of the porch. Connor hesitated, standing awkwardly in front of the door before Hank glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrow quirked upwards. He patted the ground beside him.

“Sit down, for fuck’s sake.”

Hank, as always, was very eloquent with his words. Not that Connor minded.

As soon as Connor sat beside him, Hank pointed up. Connor curiously followed his finger, his eyes landing on the gaping night sky above them. The stars were bright, Connor noticed, brighter than usual. They twinkled up there in space, a dusting of purple mixed in as the void expanded. It made it easier to breath, looking up at the sky. It had been a while since Connor actually saw the stars, or cared to look for them.

Connor could feel a smile worm its way onto his face. “I thought your coworkers said enjoying the stars makes you soft?”

“Eh, fuck ‘em,” Hank spat. “Nothing’s wrong with being a little soft.”

Connor laughed then. It felt like the weight that had been steadily growing on his shoulders was lifted. The air felt lighter.

“I think you’re right, Hank,” Connor said. “Nothing’s wrong with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> how does one write someone in character. I've always loved to read long one-shots, so I thought I'd attempt one myself. and I mean listen, when I was writing this I was completely like, "wow i hate gavin what a piece of shit" but then i realized that I would love it if he wasn't as mean?? Either way, I hope you enjoyed reading this! It's encouraging! Thanks!


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